Chapter 6 Kanikapila

Bright and early Tuesday morning I was sure I heard my cell phone chime, alerting me to an incoming text. 

I glanced around. Where was that blasted phone? The charger cord in the living room sat empty. I searched the bathroom, bedroom, and finally the kitchen. No phone. I sat at the kitchen table, cradled my head in my hands, and took a few deep breaths. Life was infinitely simpler back when phones were kept tethered to the wall.

I gathered the morning newspaper that lay scattered across the table, stood to put it in the recycle bin. And there was my phone, hidden beneath the Local & Business section.

The text was from Esther.

Kaulana says today kanikapila will be in honor of Pearl’s memory. Be there at 11. Potluck.

So Kaulana, the only neighbor I had  yet to meet, was back from Maui.

I’d seen kanikapila listed as one of Kon-Tiki’s weekly activities on the bulletin board near the mailboxes. When I asked Esther what it meant, she’d explained the Hawaiian word for merry-making and singing to the accompaniment of ukulele music. She included a strong warning that, by unwritten decree, attendance was mandatory. If I wanted to get along at Kon-Tiki Sands, she’d said, I’d best plan to show up on a regular basis.

I let out a long sigh, replied to Esther’s text with a thumbs-up emoji, and hit send. I didn’t play the ukulele and certainly wasn’t in the mood for merry-making. But I was the one who’d discovered Pearl’s body. I could hardly refuse to attend a gathering in her honor.

I opened my fridge and studied the sparse contents. I sure hadn’t planned on a potluck this morning. I pulled out a few strawberries and kiwi fruit, washed and sliced them, put them in a plastic container with a snap-on lid. Next shopping trip I’d have to keep the weekly potluck lunch in mind.

At ten-thirty I dressed casually in capris and a tank top, swiped on a touch of eyeliner and mascara. A dusting of blush over my cheekbones and a light shade of lipstick did little to brighten my pallid face. As soon as the police removed the crime scene tape from the pool area, I’d better get out there and sun myself—though I was pretty sure my first dip in the hot tub had also been my last.

Pushing that memory aside, I slipped on sunglasses, worked my feet into a pair of flip flops, and followed the walkway to the clubhouse at the far side of the building. Most of the ladies were already there, seated in a semi-circle on the battered sofas and chairs.

Though she had aged since her Facebook profile photo was taken, I recognized Kaulana immediately. A substantial woman, she struggled out of her chair with some difficulty, giving me a warm smile. Wide bare feet peeked out from under her tent-sized blue and white mu‘umu‘u. An array of fresh tropical flowers adorned her steel-colored hair that had been gathered at the back of her neck in an old fashioned bun. She approached me with outstretched hands. Her swollen, red-rimmed eyes met mine as she took my hands in hers.

I noticed tiny hearing aid wires protruding from her ears, as she said, “Aloha kakahiaka. I am Kaulana.” Her words carried a melodic lilt.

“I’m Lillian.”

“Yes, I know. I’m so glad you could join us, Lillian. Please, sit anywhere.”

The chairs were all taken. The only seats left were on either end of a sofa where Sylvie took up the middle cushion. After her strange behavior yesterday, I didn’t relish sitting beside her. The only other option was to drag over a bar stool, or one of the folding chairs at the poker table.

 Sylvie gave me a sweet smile and a wave, patting the cushion beside her. “Lillian! Here, sit by me.” She was dressed in a rose-print button-down blouse. Today her underpants were, presumably, on the inside of her pink capris where they belonged.

“Thanks,” I murmured. I sat, leaving as much distance as possible between her hip and mine, as if her ditziness might be contagious.

Kaulana said, “Lillian, have you met everyone?”

“I have.” I gave a quick smile to Francesca, Mae, Tiare, Violet, and Coralee. Where was Esther?

Arnie was also missing, but he might be exempt from the women’s activities. Possibly, as the only male, he just didn’t need to work as hard to stay in the good graces of the powers that be. Or, more likely, he forgot.

I contemplated the benefits of memory loss until Kaulana spoke, interrupting my thoughts.

“I know none of us are in the mood for singing,” she said. “But I feel it’s important we continue our Tuesday morning tradition. Pearl would want it that way. Today we will remember our sister, who was taken from us just yesterday.”

Kaulana extracted an ukulele from the woven bag resting against her chair. She strummed it, and the small instrument came alive in her hands.

Tiare joined in, vamping on another ukulele.

The ukuleles fell silent. Gazes turned toward the doorway behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see a large form filling the entrance, silhouetted by bright sunlight.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Esther as she scurried in.

“Aloha, Esther,” Kaulana said in a strained voice. “E komo mai.”

“Hi. Good morning.” Esther glanced around the room. She spotted the empty seat on Sylvie’s other side. Her eyes caught mine and I met her relieved smile with one of my own.

Sylvie scooted closer to me to make room for Esther’s ample behind.

Kaulana strummed a few more notes, then sang in a loud, clear voice. “E ke Akua nani kamaha‘o/Nau no i hana ka honua nei …” The words were unfamiliar, but the melody was easily recognizable as How Great Thou Art.

Tiare joined in, her voice melding perfectly with Kaulana’s. They both must’ve sung professionally in their younger days.

Even though I’m Jewish, their heartfelt rendition of the Christian hymn touched something deep inside me. An ache filled my chest. Tears formed in my eyes and soon spilled over.

I swiped at my cheeks, then looked at my fingers. They came away smeared with black mascara. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a tissue?

By the time Kaulana and Tiare came to the end of the song, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Sylvie let loose with a series of gut-wrenching sobs. I reached over, took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Kaulana led two more songs in Hawaiian. Those who knew the words joined in, Tiare’s impressive voice rising above the others. While they sang, the biggest moth I’d ever seen flew into the room from outside. The women followed the black giant with their eyes as it flitted above us, but no one flinched even when it threatened to land on their heads.

Kaulana set her ukulele on the floor and rummaged in her bag for a tissue to dry her eyes.

The moth, with its seven-inch wingspread, settled on the kidney-shaped coffee table in the middle of our circle.

“Look,” said Sylvie. “It’s Pearl, come to visit us.”

 “Yes,” said Kaulana, smiling at the moth. “I believe it is. Let’s each say a few words about Pearl. Who would like to go first?”

A long moment passed. Finally, Esther spoke up. “Our sister Pearl lived large. I know that I, for one, admired her energy, her spunk, her zest for life. I pray that she is now resting in the loving arms of our Lord Jesus.”

“Amen,” Kaulana said.

More amens echoed around the room. A soft “Thank you Jesus,” came from someone on my right.

“How about you, Mae?” Kaulana asked.

The Japanese woman clasped her hands. Today she wore a purple knee-length mu‘umu‘u with large frills around the neckline and sleeves. She glanced at the others hesitantly. Finally, she said, “Pearl was such a physically beautiful lady. She always wore pretty clothes.” Mae tugged on her straight black hair. “I wish I had hair like hers.”

“Thank you, Mae,” Kaulana said. “Coralee?”

“Pearl had a lot of energy and worked hard at keeping her body in shape,” said Coralee. “I think we can all take something away from that.”

The women all nodded.

“Vee-o-lette?” Kaulana said.

Violet had gelled her platinum hair into spikes. Her black silk tank top and leopard print leggings clung to her bony frame, making her appear anorexic. “I knew from the day Pearl moved in that she and I had little in common, she said. “But I made a point of inviting her over for a drink and offered her some of my books to read. She accepted the drink but not the books.” Violet paused, her over-sized hoop earrings swinging as she shook her head. “Her line dance classes were one of the highlights of my week. I’m sorry she’s gone.”

“Tiare?” Kaulana said.

Tiare sat straighter, lifting her regal chin. “I appreciated the way Pearl wasted no time making herself part of the group when she moved in.” She directed her gaze my way for a moment. “I think we all enjoyed her line dance classes.”

More nods.

Kaulana said, “Francesca, would you like to say something?”

Francesca was dressed in olive green cargo shorts and a striped polo shirt. She wore no makeup or jewelry. She gave a few slow nods before speaking in a guttural German accent. “I zink Pearl iss very schtronk voman. Ja. It vill be much too quiet around here now she iss gone.”

Kaulana said, “How ’bout you, Sylvie.”

Sylvie leaned forward. “Yes?”

“How would you like to remember Pearl?”

“Did you know I bought Pearl that lovely pink bathrobe she was wearing yesterday in the hot tub?” Sylvie asked without a hint of sadness. “I got it on sale at Ross and gave it to her on her birthday. Pearl always looks so pretty in pink. Pretty in Pink.” She giggled. “Have you seen the movie with that cute red-haired actress, Molly-What’s-Her-Name? Pearl has red hair too…I help her dye it…let’s see, what is the name of the color she uses? Hmm … I think it was Lady Clairol—no, L’Oreal … Red Penny … though pennies aren’t red, are they? Or was it Ginger Twist?—”

“Thank you for those memories, Sylvie,” Kaulana said loud enough to cut off Sylvie’s rambling. “And you, Lillian. I know you didn’t know Pearl for long, but would you like to add something?”

I swiped at the mascara-stained tears on my cheeks. “Actually, I never had the chance to meet Pearl before she … passed. After hearing all of you speak so fondly of her, I’m sorry I never had the pleasure—”

Did I hear a soft snort? I looked around but couldn’t tell who’d done it. It occurred to me that as the women had spoken about Pearl, not one of them had actually said they’d liked her.